Little piece of hobbit fluff.....
by Pointy-Eared Bowtwanger
Summary: *mild slash* little bit of hobbit fluff that i wrote for my dear gimplike cousin, cos i owe her pretty things... she has pms and a gun...


This is for Laura, as I owe her many pretty things for nicking her stuff… ie priscilla video, making fun of merry, asking if shes dead and then prodding her repeatedly…  
  
So Laura, this is for you….  
  
Oh, and I did draw that pic of pippin for you…  
  
Oh yeah, I don't own them… laura does, I gave them to her to make up for my nasty stealing things… I HAVE THE ELROND STICKER No. 143!!!!!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sam was gardening. He liked gardening. He liked the smell of freshly cut grass, summer flowers and the colour of leaves in autumn. Nobody knew he liked it so much, he was just Samwise Gamgee; the gaffer's son, the Baggins' gardener.  
  
It was summer, and the flowers were at full (orli) bloom. Sam worked hard that summer, ready for the occupants of Bag end, Bilbo and his nephew Frodo, to enjoy at their leisure. Sam wasn't a proud hobbit. He was modest, shy, and knew the language of the plants better than the ways of his culture. With his plants he was safe. He knew who he was, Samwise Gamgee, their carer, their feeder. He nurtured them, and hid from sight when the garden was admired by other hobbits.  
  
The usually idyllic Hobbiton summer was being threatened by rainclouds, drifting over from the east. Sam busied himself with his plants, making sure they wouldn't be uprooted in the oncoming rain, Bilbo and Frodo were often out at Bywater, being respectable hobbits. Well, apart from that adventure business. Today, Sam knew, they were out visiting friends at Brandybuck Hall, and wouldn't be back till late, which gave him time to weed the garden thoroughly and straighten things out.  
  
As he worked, kneeling down and letting his fingers work through the soil, he wondered about things. Sam wasn't a particularly smart hobbit, not like Mr. Bilbo or Frodo Baggins. He wasn't dumb either. He knew the ways of the world, in the Shire at least. He knew enough to see him through life safely; to find a nice hobbit-lass and settle down, maybe earn money through something he loved, like gardening. It was still his ambition to be like Old Toby, Tobias Oldbuck, and grow the best pipeweed in Hobbiton. But that was a big dream, and he was just a little hobbit. In truth, he never believed it would come true.  
  
Maybe it was the slightly odd atmosphere that had settled on the more adventurous parts of Hobbiton, but Samwise had been having rather un- Samwise-like thoughts all morning.  
  
He had talked to Frodo that morning, before he had left for Brandybuck Hall. Mr Frodo was a quite popular hobbit, but there was something about the young hobbit that kept him apart. A certain something that no one could quite explain. Sam had always thought that there was an Elvish look about Mr. Frodo, but then, he had never seen an elf, so what did he know?  
  
Mr Bilbo had talked about Elves, of their beauty and grace. Sam dearly wished to see them, but what chance had a lowly gardener to see the Firstborn?  
  
Now he actually thought about it, Mr. Frodo was an attractive hobbit, and undoubtedly had some admirers among the hobbit-lasses of Bywater, his eyes had always amazed Sam. The depth of them, how innocent they made him look. Sam always felt compelled to look into them, curious at what he'd see, if Mr. Frodo was as innocent as he seemed.  
  
Sam shook his head a little sadly and stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees. He had work to do. He didn't have time for such un-hobbit- like thoughts.  
  
* * *  
  
Bilbo and Frodo Baggins came back later than expected. Sam had packed up his gardening tools, and was wandering down the road when they arrived.  
  
"Samwise." Bilbo slapped the young hobbit on the back in a friendly manner. "I trust the garden's kept you busy?"  
  
"Yes Mr Bilbo sir." Sam answered quietly, as was his way amongst the more respected hobbits.  
  
'Well, I've had a busy day. Very busy." Bilbo smiled cheerfully and started the walk up the path to Bag End. Frodo wandered up behind him, stopping at the gate and turning (in)to Sam.  
  
"How've you been Sam?" Sam smiled at his masters concern.  
  
"Good Mr. Frodo. The garden'll be lovely this year, just you wait and see." Frodo laughed lightly, and let his hand rest on the gardener's shoulder.  
  
'Sam, it's always beautiful." He moved his hand, letting it linger for slightly too long on the younger hobbits chest. "Everything you touch is beautiful." He flashed Sam a bold smile and moved up the path, leaving Samwise staring after him.  
  
Sam slept uneasily that night. Something was definitely wrong in Hobbiton. Something unnatural. He wasn't good with other hobbits. Show him a plant cutting, and he could tell you the type and what season it was cut, but this was something beyond him. Frodo had never looked at him like that before. And Frodo had never made him feel like that. He couldn't make sense of it all.  
  
* * *  
  
Bilbo had already left when Sam went to Bag End the next day. Frodo was sitting on the bench overlooking Bywater, smoking a pipe. He gave Sam a sly smile when he saw him.  
  
"Hello Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled nervously, before turning and looking over the garden. There wasn't much to be done. A little trimming maybe.  
  
"Sam, do you want to come inside?" Frodo asked, taking the pipe from his mouth and smiling. Sam looked nervous, rubbing the palms of his hands on the back of his trousers. "I'm sure the garden will be okay for a little while." Frodo reached out and let his fingers press insistently on Sam's arm. Still visibly nervous, Sam followed Frodo up the path and inside Bag End.  
  
Bag End was a very comfortable and homely hobbit hole. Anywhere Sam looked was evidence of a long and prosperous family tree. Pictures hung above the fireplace, family heirlooms, a desk covered with papers, and an overall warm, friendly feel. Sam stood awkwardly; looking round as Frodo fussed around him, finally gesturing him to a seat.  
  
* * *  
  
It had been a nice afternoon for Samwise Gamgee. Who would have thought that a gardener like Sam would be spending a day with Mr Frodo Baggins, eating lunch and talking like they had been best friends their whole life? And Sam had to confess that Mr Frodo had been… easier going than he had thought. He could talk about the garden, the gaffer, about stories of elves he had heard. Frodo had joined in enthusiastically, and they had spent a great deal of time laughing at their private shared jokes. And yet for Samwise, it was a bittersweet kind of joy. He had never had a best friend before, and it seemed for too pretentious to think that Mr Frodo could be any more than his master.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, the garden!" Sam stood up, making sure he placed the plates from afternoon tea on the table carefully. "I'm sorry Mr Frodo, I have to…"  
  
"It's okay Sam." The older hobbit stood too, his hand resting on the gardener's shoulder as he led him to the door. "Don't worry about the garden. It's beautiful, as always." He glanced down, Sam would have said shyly, if Samwise had the audacity to presume anything about Mr Frodo's feelings. "I've really enjoyed myself Sam. You're the best company in the whole of the Shire." Samwise blushed furiously, staring at the floor, and only moving slightly as he realized that Frodo had moved closer to him. Soft hands gently touched Sam's cheeks and he dared to look up, meeting Frodo's even gaze.  
  
Samwise had never seen any beauty above the flowers in summer, the trees, and the occasional hobbit-lass that caught his eye. Which left him unprepared for the beauty in Frodo's eyes. So innocent, yet not so, as if he was hiding something that would make a man blush. Sam held his breath, as Frodo's inquisitive fingers explored, by touch, the texture of his hair, his lips, cheekbones, ears. The older hobbit seemed fascinated by him.  
  
"Mr Frodo?" He managed to breathe, vaguely aware of dusk settling outside, the darkness pushing them closer.  
  
"Shh, Sam." Frodo muttered, a smile playing on his lips, and he leant closer.  
  
Sam had never been kissed before. He had never expected his first time to be with a hobbit-lad. But then, if he had been given the choice, he would have chosen Mr Frodo in an instant.  
  
Frodo's lips were soft, pliant, against his, and he tasted so sweet, though he dared go no further than parting his lips slightly. Frodo pushed against him, and Sam gave way till he felt the door of Bag End against his back. Frodo's hands moved down his arms to clasp their hands together.  
  
"I've watched you Sam." Frodo's voice was low, and Sam could feel his breath, warm against his now moistened lips. "I just needed to…" He paused and sighed gently, pulling Sam's right hand round his waist, then reaching up to touch a stray lock of curly hair that hung down by Sam's ear.  
  
Sam was overwhelmed. Frodo had watched him? For how long? Did this mean… what did this mean?  
  
"Mr Frodo, I…" he stopped, coaxed into silence by Frodo's pleading eyes and soft touch.  
  
"You don't have to say anything. Not yet." Frodo smiled, and pressed his lips to Sam's for a gentle kiss. "I can wait. Goodnight Sam." He stepped back and watched Sam leave, with a wistful look on his face.  
  
* * *  
  
Sam had thought that his first kiss with Frodo had to be the most amazing thing he had ever experienced. But he hadn't counted on the second in the garden the next week. Or the third in the pouring rain, and the fourth, fifth, six and seventh against the door of Bag End. There had been more, but all rational thought left the gardener's mind when Frodo touched him.  
  
This carried on for a long while, slow and sweet kisses when they were alone, and quick ones when they were outside. Frodo often sat outside and watched Sam work in the garden, talking to him, and listened intently as Sam pointed out the flowers and the plants around them. Sam had tried to explain to himself, as he watched Frodo, the feelings inside of him, and why they kept overwhelming him when he thought of the older hobbit.  
  
Sam didn't know what love felt like. He was only 26, he didn't need to worry about love, or having a family, settling down. Not just yet. But he wasn't worried. He only prayed that what he was feeling for Frodo was love. Even if it wasn't, he could happily stay with Frodo like this forever. Well, except for one thing.  
  
Frodo touched him a lot. It started out mostly innocent; patting him on the back, gently squeezing his shoulder, an affectionate rub on his arm. Of course, when they lost themselves in each other's kisses, these touches got more daring. The last time, Frodo had been constantly sliding his hand up and down his back, getting lower and lower with each stroke, and had giggled into Sam's mouth when the younger hobbit moaned. Sam had gotten even though. It seemed that, whenever he got overwhelmed with these feelings, he got a little more daring, more confident. Frodo had reacted very nicely to Sam's curious fingers idly stroking just underneath his bellybutton. He had moaned, arching into the gardener's embrace, and Sam had loved the feeling of it all.  
  
Today, they had been busy tidying Bag End, after Frodo's 38th, and Bilbo's 99th, birthday party. Sam was kneeling next to the fireplace, sweeping up the mess, when he felt Frodo's gaze on him. He turned, to see the shyly smiling, dark-haired hobbit, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.  
  
"Do you know how beautiful you are Sam?" The gardener blushed, but didn't look away. He knew that Frodo was a hopeless romantic.  
  
"Mr Frodo…" Sam started, but Frodo held his hand up to silence him, and walked towards him.  
  
"I mean it Sam." He knelt next to the younger hobbit, and gently touched his cheek. "You're the most beautiful hobbit I've ever seen." He tilted Sam's head up slightly, and kissed him slowly. "I love you, Samwise Gamgee." He muttered and kissed him again, harder, and pulled Sam against him. They fell together, and Frodo pulled the other hobbit over him, pulled him down for a passionate kiss. Sam couldn't help himself. He pushed down on Frodo and attacked his mouth in a frantic embrace.  
  
"Sam…" Frodo gasped as Sam pulled back a little way, breathing heavily. "Take your time. We have all night."  
  
"But Mr Bilbo…"  
  
"Is away. Trust me." Frodo stretched underneath Sam, bringing his arms up above his head. "I'm all yours Sam. All yours."  
  
Sam's breath caught in his throat, and he looked down at the hobbit sprawled below him. He couldn't believe that he had been about to rush this… but now wasn't the time to think about that. He smiled at Frodo, who was watching him, eyes half-closed and trembling lips. Sam leant down and kissed him again, slowly, and felt Frodo push up against him, a slight whimper leaving those soft lips.  
  
"Sam…" Frodo opened his eyes and looked up pleadingly at his lover. "Please." Sam groaned and silenced him with a kiss, clumsily undoing the buttons on Frodo's white shirt.  
  
* * *  
  
Samwise decided it must be love. Nothing else could describe the sheer intensity of the feelings inside him as he held a sleeping Frodo in his arms. And in Mr Frodo's bed as well. He pulled the older hobbit closer, Frodo nuzzling Sam's neck, and pulled the bedsheets tighter around them. Sighing happily, Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo's body, and pressed his lips to the dark-haired hobbits forehead.  
  
"I love you too, Mr Frodo." He murmured, and settled down to sleep, feeling Frodo's body relax against his. 


End file.
